Friday, February 25, 2011

February 25, 1989

On February 24, 1989, a little seven-year-old girl sat in the corner of her parents' bedroom, waiting to see her sister be born. She had been waiting all day. The babysitter had taken her and her siblings away for several hours during the day with assurances that no, the baby would not be here for a while, they would not miss it. The little girl was nervous every minute that she was gone that everybody was wrong and that she WOULD miss it. She had been there for her brother's birth when she was three, but she really didn't remember anything except getting to hold a flashlight. Then another brother had come, but for some reason mommy and daddy had to leave in a van and she had to go with her sister and other brother to someone elses house for the night, and when she got home her brother was already born. All she really remembered of that was being asked whether she ever wet the bed before being settled in with her sister in someone's guest bed for the night. This time, she was not going to miss the birth!
I was not going to miss this one.
But babies like to take their time apparently. All the siblings were going to watch the baby come, but one by one they got sleepy and went off to bed. Just I remained. I was stubborn. More stubborn than my exhaustion. Two hours past bedtime...three... It was near midnight, and I don't remember feeling tired, but mom was tired and decided she was going to get into bed just for a little while. Dad and Grandma both promised me that they would come wake me when the baby was close to coming so that I could still be there. Frustrated and disappointed, I went downstairs and crawled into the hidabed with my sister (our bed having been given to Grandma).
As I snuggled in I realized how tired I really was. I suspect I would have dropped right off to sleep if, within minutes, I had not heard Grandma trying to hurry down the stairs on her arthritic knees "Jenni, come quick!"
I missed the birth. Apparently mom's laying on the waterbed was what it took to entice Amethyst to come earthside. I can't say I really blame her. I was miffed at missing her birth though...and by only five minutes!
Nine months later another sleep-deprived night saw Amy back out of this world. I missed most of that too. But if I missed her entrance and exit, I did not miss the months in between, and Amethyst was--is--a precious jewel in our family. Today would be her 22nd birthday.
my sister Amethyst

My mother has an amethyst necklace. I have long thought that maybe I'd like a piece of jewelry with amethyst myself, but I had never really pursued it because, while I like purple, it's not a color I've usually worn very much. However, my recent work with The Amethyst Network, and subsequent learning about the meanings and attributes of the stone, solidified my desire for a pair of amethyst earrings (I picked earrings because I wear them more than any other type of jewelry). Plus I have two purple shirts now. ☺

I had some Christmas gift money so I started looking around etsy, and found these Amethyst hearts.
They are perfect.


erinrose said...

Oh, Jenni....thank-you for sharing. I think of you and your sweet mama and all the two of you have been through. I'm so proud of you both for your bright spirits and beautiful gifts you share with us.

Jamie said...

She looks a lot like your boys. =)
I remember visiting her grave on Memorial Days when we'd go to visit Grandma Betty's grave and wondering what it would be like to have another cousin around.

cc said...

What a beautiful and sad memory. Thank you for sharing. I too only wear earrings and jewelry with meaning to me. What a lovely way to remember your sister.

Lisa said...

I for some reason thought I remembered you sharing this on the moms board but it has been a long time. What happened to sweet Amy? Hugs to you today.


Jenni said...

Lisa--Amy's death was diagnosed as SIDS. SIDS is code for "we have no idea why she died," and she didn't fall into any of the risk categories either--she was over 6m, co-slept, breastfed, etc etc.
We have concluded that Father simply needed her back home.

Katrina said...

Sweet story. Thanks for sharing your memory. And I like your earrings!

Carrie said...

I always appreciate reading about your experiences with Amethyst. I am grateful that you are willing to tell us about her. In that way you are keeping her alive and teaching us all valuable lessons.

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